Nights Like These
by Merely-a-Muse
Summary: Companion to 'Memories'. B/A ficlet. He thinks of her on nights like these.


TITLE: Nights Like These  
AUTHOR: Kat  
PAIRING: Buffy/Angel  
SPOILERS: Through Angel leaving.  
RATING: PG  
SUMMERY: He remembers her on nights like these.  
DISCLAIMER: I don't down anything, nothing, nada, nilch (stupid little Garrett-isms I've picked up *waves fist*)   
DEDICATION: George, I totally dig you more than that crazy, curious monkey. Plus you're the only one who can stand to listen to my hour-long B/A rants. Luv ya babe.  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hey, it was requested, I am but obligated to oblige the requests of those nice enough to review.   
  
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It's on nights like these that he thinks of her. Nights when he's still breathing, alright not real intake of air mind you, nights when he's still alive to fight another night, again, not really alive but you get the point. Yes, it's on nights like these that he remembers every moment they've spent, every moment that they shared.  
  
He can clearly remember the way that she moved. Not just in a fight, because everyone knew how amazing that was, but he remembered how she would walk when she thought no one was looking. That's when she was really herself, when she was in her element. When he would see her strutting through a cemetery or when he would watch from the shadows as she would talk with her friends, that was when he loved looking at her most. She would always get flustered and disoriented when she knew he was watching, not that he didn't still love her flustered and disorients, but it was the in-between moments that he truly fell for the girl.  
  
It's on nights like these when he thinks about the way she would look at him. The soft gazes that she would toss him when she thought he wasn't looking. But he was always looking. He thinks about the way that she would look up him with love filled eyes that always made him feel like looking over his shoulder because there just had to be some other man that she was looking at. He never felt he deserved her but he still remembers how much she thought of him. How much he hopes she still thinks.  
  
It's on these nights, when the sky is clear and the heavy city life seems to dim, that he thinks about the way that she would laugh and the way that she cried. He remembers the pain that he caused her, even though she would contest that it wasn't really him. He remembers the unspoken moments when a thousand thoughts would be conveyed with one of her sweet, simple smiles or her soft, tinkling laugh.   
  
Its nights like these that he remembers how he thought the world must have seen them. He remembers when things were simple, well not simple, more like simpler, and how they must have looked like two kids in love. How they would steal soft kisses under the moonlight and how they would have moments when they looked into each other's eyes and the world just seemed to stop. He remembers the awkward moments when they weren't really together and the simplest things were forbidden. How she would blush when his hand grazed her knee or when they would bump into one another.   
  
On nights like these he thinks of the smallest imperfections that only made her better in her eyes. He remembers how she could never quite walk in a straight line and would always end up running into him when they would walk side by side. He remembers watching her dance one night in the graveyard. She had told him later that she had seen it in a movie and felt compelled to see if her grace and agility extended as far as dancing goes. He remembers being amazed by the sight of her spinning and leaping amongst headstones and he remembers just how right she looked amongst them. That was the night he first realized he had to leave, because she didn't need one more thing calling her to this place of despair.  
  
It's on nights like these, nights when he's still able to go on, that he can bear thinking of her. If he concentrates hard enough he can smell her soft vanilla perfume or he can see her briefly in a faceless blonde walking down the street. It's on nights like these, nights when he's not really dead, that he thinks of her the most. 


End file.
